Date: Sun, 14 Nov 1999 18:12:32 EST
From: Lauren2993@aol.com
Subject: Lucky Me
Hi everyone--me again. God, I'm a horrible human . . .this has taken me SO
long. Y'all just have no idea how busy I have been. But if it's any
consolation, I feel really bad. Okay, on with the legal stuff. Everything
you're about to read--excluding the rest of this tag-line--is completely
made up, so don't take any of it seriously. None of it is meant to imply
anything about anyone involved...you all know that....:) If reading
material about homosexuality offends you, then shut your eyes.
Okay..commercial time...:) If you get the chance, read these..."Brian and
Me" (written by DLS), "Search and Rescue" (written by Matt)--these two
kinda go together--, "N Sync and RJ" (written by RJ), and a new one
"Bradley's New Beginning" (written by Fred). All are good stories. All
are good authors. All are good people. Okay, this is the part where I
thank everyone who e-mailed me. But guess what....cliffhangers produce WAY
more e-mail than I thought they would...and it would be impossible to thank
all of you. So I'm gonna say this...if you e-mailed me after the last
installment, then I thank you so much for letting me know I'm not failing
at this whole writing thing....you make me keep faith in myself. All right
now....without further ado....on with the show.
Lucky Me -6-
I staggered backwards as I struggled to breathe. It had only been a couple
of days since I'd seen Jason, but it seemed like more like an eternity. The
memory of the last time he'd hit me kept playing over and over in my head.
He'd had a baseball bat, but he passed out before I was seriously injured.
As it was, I dragged myself to the hospital with a broken arm, a broken
leg, and three fractured ribs. I'd told them I'd fallen down some stairs.
I'm pretty sure they didn't believe me.
I continued backing up, bumping the leg of the couch on the way causing
Lance to jerk awake. I was pinned against the wall as Jason approached me.
I put my arms in front of my face, like I had done many times before, to
try and keep my face from being bashed in. I would have run if I could,
but my feet seemed nailed down. Lance became conscious of the present
surroundings just as Jason's fist connected with my protective forearms.
Jason never had been able to figure out a way to get around them. Lance
stood up immediately, not able to fully comprehend what was going on,
having no idea what this stranger was doing in his house, nor why he was
attacking me. Attacking me??
Not sure of what to do, but knowing he had to do something, Lance bellowed
unintelligible obscenities as he threw himself towards Jason in an attempt
to get him away from me. It didn't work. Jason was too strong. But
Lance's efforts did manage to distract Jason, so that I could get out of
his firing line. Unfortunately, Jason's attention switched from me to
Lance.
I regained my composure just in time to see Jason hurtling towards him,
fists flying. The anger I felt was paralyzing, and I couldn't move for
what seemed like an eternity. Without really even thinking about it, I
leapt into the air and flung myself at Jason, knocking him to the floor. I
stood quickly and glared at this drunken bastard as he tried to get up. He
finally did, only to find me staring holes through him. "You leave him
alone, you hear me?" My emotions caused my breath to come in short,
sporadic bursts. "Leave him alone." I stood there and stared at him for a
long time, silently challenging him. "Get out of this house."
I could see right away that my words hadn't penetrated that thick head of
his by the lack of facial expression. "Luke, don't be angry with me. You
know I love you," he cooed as he began to walk towards me again.
I could feel Lance become apprehensive, and I could hear the confusion in
his voice as he said, "Luke . . ."
I couldn't take the chance of turning to explain the situation to Lance and
risk losing Jason's attention. Lance would understand once I told him
everything. I maliciously held Jason's stare. I paused momentarily,
unsure of what I was about to do, but not really having any choice. "You
don't love me, Jason," I forced through clenched teeth. The determination
in my voice stopped him suddenly. He'd never heard me speak to him that
way. "You don't love me," I repeated. "You never did. You only ever
wanted me for a punching bag." I looked him in the eye and could see that
I'd finally gotten through to him. "Get out," I said, disgusted with him,
and myself for ever proposing to this bastard. I silenced any words Jason
might've said with the deadening stare that was emanating from me. He
slowly turned and stumbled to the still open door. He looked back at me
once, but was met by a stone-cold stare that let him know I wasn't sorry
this was happening. He turned again, walked through the door, and out of
my life.
I sank to the floor, suddenly drained of some life-giving force. I clasped
my hands around my knees, and let my head drop, but I wasn't crying. I
wasn't fragile. I was empowered, just emotionally drained.
Lance's mind was moving too fast for him to speak. He was so utterly
confused, not to mention shaken up. He finally took control of his
thoughts and said, "Luke, what's going on?"
I looked up at him and sighed. "That," I said as I motioned to the door,
"was Jason."
I could see it register on his face. "Jason? Like, *Jason* Jason?? The
one that hit JC?" I nodded. "But . . .why was he . . .I mean . . .I
don't--"
"Lance," I said softly, "come here," I said, patting the ground beside me.
"I need to tell you something." He sat on the floor, facing me, and looked
at me quizzically. "Lance," I started, "Jason . . .well he . . .he abused
me."
Lance's eyes flew open as he stood up, yelling, "He hit you? He . . .he
hit you? That . . .god . .. I'll . . . He hit you?"
"Yes," I soothed as I stood. "Yes," I put my hand on his shoulder, "he
did. But he's gone now."
Lance looked into my face, and my heart ached as I saw the growing sorrow
there. He threw his arms around my neck, and I put my arms around his
waist, and we clung to each other. With my ear pressed up against Lance's
cheek, I could feel his gritted teeth as he swallowed his anger, and
attempted to suppress his sorrow.
"Shh, Lance, he's gone now."
Lance lifted his head from my shoulder and pulled away from me to look me
in the eyes. He pulled away from me, but not out of our embrace.
"Shouldn't we call the police? For assault and battery? He should go to
jail, Luke. He hurt you. He should . . ."
My own eyes flew open. "Did he hurt you? Did he hit you? I know I
knocked him out of the way, but are you okay? He didn't . . ." I looked
him over, ". . .did he?" I looked, worriedly, up into his face.
"No," Lance smiled, "he didn't touch me. But we should call the police.
What if he comes back?"
"He's not coming back."
"How do you know that, Luke? How could you possibly know that?" Lance
looked at me with a half-shocked, half-worried expression.
I tightened my grip around his waist. "I lived with him for a year. I
know him, Lance. He's not coming back. I just don't want to think about
it."
"But . . ." he protested.
"If he does, then we'll call. Okay?"
He smiled. "All right."
We were still holding each other. The talking had stopped, but there
wasn't any need for it. As we looked into each other, I got a feeling.
That overwhelming feeling that comes over you when you know you must kiss
someone--
"I should get to bed," Lance said suddenly, breaking from my arms and
backing away. "So should you," he smiled nervously. "Get a good night's
sleep. Try to, you know, forget what happened. Night, Luke." He abruptly
turned around and bounded up the stairs. I stared after him, wondering
what I'd done wrong.
***** Lance shut his bedroom door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
"Alright," he said to himself. "Okay . . .okay . . .alright. Just go to
bed. Just go to bed, and get some rest. Tomorrow's another day. Just get
some sleep." His mind was reeling as he pulled back the covers and slipped
under them. He fell into a fitful, dream-filled, sleep.
Lance tossed and turned in bed as his dream took over.
He was on a long, dark road, and he was running. But not just running, he
was running away from something. He ran, not because he knew what was
going to happen, but because he was afraid of what might. He ran as fast
as his feet would carry him, looking over his shoulder and not seeing
anything, but knowing it was there. He was out of breath, but he kept
running. He turned to try and get away from whatever was pursuing him, but
someone blocked his escape. Looking up, he realized it was me. He turned
again and ran faster, searching for another exit, but again I stopped him.
He turned again, and again, and again. Each time being stopped by me, and
each time fearfully dodging as I made an attempt to grab him. Finally, I
succeeded. And as he struggled to free himself from the hold, he heard me
say,
"It isn't evil. Don't run from it, from me. I won't let you run from it."
His struggling ceased, and he began to sob. "Please let me go. Please let
me leave. I don't want to do this. Don't make me." His shoulders
slumped, and the air seemed to run out of him. He felt my hand lift his
chin, and he found himself looking into my face.
"Stop fighting it," I whispered as I bent to kiss him. Although scared, he
let himself yield to the kiss.
As the kiss faded into reality, Lance bolted upright in bed with a cold
sweat on his brow. His heavy breathing calmed a bit as he realized he was
waking from a dream, but his heart only sped up as the sensations thereof
came rushing back to him. In a daze, he walked to the bathroom and
splashed some cool water on his face. He gazed at his reflection in the
mirror, and for the first time forced himself to see something he had
avoided for so long.
"Shit," he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and murmured, "How do
I deal with this?" A tear rolled down his face as he whispered to himself,
"How do I deal with being gay?"
*****
As the phone rang, Lance snapped out of the trance he'd been in all night,
and reached for the phone by his bed. "Hello?" His voice was barley
audible.
"Lance, that you buddy?" Lance could hear Joey's voice on the other end of
the line.
"Yeah Joey, it's me."
"Well listen, buddy, we're going to the mall this afternoon. We were
thinking you and Luke would want to come with."
"Me and . . .Luke?" Lance's heart quickened as the adrenaline pumped into
his blood.
"Yeah, unless you have other plans or something, Scoop."
"Uh . . .no Joey. That's . . .that's cool. Yeah. What time?" Lance
tried, in vain, to slow his rapid pulse.
"Say around noon, at the food court?"
"S-sure, w-we'll b-be there, Joey."
"Okay then, Lance. Hey, Scoop . . .?"
"Y-yeah J-Joey?"
"You alright buddy?"
"Of course I am," Lance laughed nervously.
"Okay," Joey didn't really believe him. "I'll see you at noon. Bye
Lance."
"B-bye." Lance put the phone back on the hook and attempted to stop
shaking. He got off the bed and cautiously moved out of his room,
downstairs, and to the guest room door. He knocked softly.
"Come in," he heard a low muffle from within say.
Lance slowly opened the door and stayed in the door frame. "Um . . .Luke?"
he almost whispered.
"Yeah?" he heard me say from under my pillow.
"Joey just called. He and the guys are going to the mall around noon.
They want us to come."
"Okay," I mumbled again. "What time is it?"
"It's around 10. We should leave in an hour and a half."
"Alright," I said, hearing my bedroom door close and the sound of Lance's
footsteps growing fainter. I sat up in bed and sighed a little. "Well,
life goes on," I said to myself and went into the bathroom.
The car ride to the mall was more than a little awkward. Neither of us
said one word the entire way, and once we got there it was just as bad. We
avoided each other's eyes and kept our distance. The guys didn't seem to
notice, though more than once I saw Joey look with concern from me to Lance
and vice versa. I was beginning to think that Lance had changed his mind
about wanting me around. What with the whole Jason thing the previous
night and me holding him afterwards for longer than I probably should have,
I was pretty sure he wanted me gone, but was too nice to say it.
We were nearing the food court; it was around 4:00 and we were getting a
little hungry. The guys decided they wanted something from Wendy's, and I
decided I wanted something from Sbarro upstairs. I was climbing the stairs
of the food court when I was almost run over by a horde of girls. I
regained my composure from my near flattening, when I suddenly realized
that a flock of screaming teeny boppers could mean real trouble for my
companions. I turned around just in time to see the guys swallowed up by
the crowd of girls.
The fans were relentless, tearing at clothing and screaming for autographs.
When I got to them, they had wrestled the guys to the ground, and I could
hear my friends screaming for help. I got down on my knees and practically
dove into the writhing mass of bodies. Through the tangle of arms and
legs, I grabbed the first band member I saw, who was Justin. I pulled on
Justin's arms until he was free of the mess, and then dove back in. I
pulled out JC next, then Chris, and Joey. It took a little longer to get
Joey out because the girls were finally realizing that they were rapidly
losing the objects of their affections. I finally struggled Joey's feet
free, and turned back to the mass of females to get Lance. But instead of
a huge gathering of frantic femmes on the floor, they were all standing in
a circle all looking towards the center with an air of astonishment about
them. I pushed through the circle, still on my knees, and I saw Lance
lying, unconscious, on the floor with his eyes closed as if he were
sleeping.
I couldn't seem to move. My brain was screaming for me to go to him, but
my body was frozen in time, frozen in that second of disbelief. I finally
snapped out of it and rushed to his side. I felt for a pulse and listened
for breath. Finding both present and strong I let out a long sigh of
relief. I put my right arm under his knees, my left supporting his back,
and I lifted him up. Taking him in my arms, I turned to the guys and
whispered, "We're going home."
*****
The guys had followed me to Lance's house and stayed for awhile waiting for
Lance to regain consciousness. When he didn't for quite some time, they
got worried and pondered calling a doctor, but I assured them that he was
fine and advised them to just go home and we'll see about it in the
morning. After much convincing, they went home.
I went upstairs and sat beside the still unconscious Lance on his bed. I
felt his forehead, and realizing he was a little warm, I went to the
bathroom and got a cool, damp washcloth and put it on his forehead. No
sooner had I sat back down on the bed than his eyelids fluttered open.
Lance's eye flickered awake, and he looked down to see me sitting on the
edge of his bed and looking, worriedly, at him. He tried to sit up, but
with the splitting pain in his head, he thought better of it and lay back
down. He whispered, "What happened?"
I cleared my throat and explained, "Some over-zealous fans attacked you at
the mall this afternoon. You hit your head. You'll be okay."
Lance groaned a little and said, "Can you get me some aspirin?"
I smiled a little and said, "Sure." As I returned, I set the aspirin and
the glass of water on the bedside table. I lifted Lance's torso and knelt
behind him, propping him up; his back against my thighs, and his head
against my chest. I reached to the table, got the aspirin and the water,
and helped him swallow them. As I put the water back on the table, I
prepared myself to get back up when I heard Lance groan a little. I
settled back down and asked, "What's wrong?"
He adjusted himself so he was a little more comfortable against my knees,
and said, "Don't leave, Luke. Please don't leave."
I put my arms around his chest and whispered, "I'm not going anywhere,
Lance. I'm right here. I'm staying."